Anamnesis
by audi katia
Summary: ...because life isn't over. And if they can get through this night, they'll realize that. :::George and Angelina centric:::DH SPOILERS:::
1. Ripped Soul

"People do not die for us immediately, but remain bathed in a sort of aura of life which bears no relation to true immortality but through which they continue to occupy our thoughts in the same way as when they were alive."

--Marcel Proust

**anamnesis**

1. the recollection or remembrance of the past; reminiscence

2. recollection of the Ideas, which the soul had known in a previous existence

* * *

"Has anyone seen him after the funeral?" 

"Well, I went up with food, but he didn't talk much."

"He ate the food though?"

"Yeah… Most of it. More than before. Mum will like that, at least."

A chorus of agreement rang out after Charlie's statement. At least, George thought it was Charlie. The voices seemed to come from a thick fog a long way a ways, blending together. George was used to distorted noises now though, after several months of only being able to hear out of one ear.

Instead of dwelling on noises from the kitchen downstairs, George tried to remember the good. Maybe Charlie was lying? To comfort the family into fooling them that George was getting, as they all hoped, better? Or maybe George was really starting to lose it. He toyed with the idea for the few brief moments before sleep. He welcomed the idea of his possible unhinging. It was relief from his memories of Fred.

Each night was filled with hours of tossing and turning before finally sliding awkwardly into a dizzying slumber. His dreams, or more accurately, nightmares, were of Fred's dead body after he was murdered during the Second War. George would watch himself, as through separated from his body, running towards his twin's body. As he would run, he would watch half of his own body disappear into thin are.

With Fred gone, he was half. Did that mean half his mind? It wasn't fair, really. He lost half his soul. Half his mind, too?

"George?" came an unsteady voice.

George gave a small grunt and looked up through his long red bangs into the brown eyes of his sister. She was looking at him with utmost concern. He hated that look, the look everyone gave him now.

Ginny teetered at the doorframe of the bathroom, where she had just emerged. Her hair was dark with water; she had just showered. Hair still dripping, she watched her elder brother sit at the top of the stairs.

She offered her hand to him, whether to help him up or just hold him, he didn't know. He looked away and began the difficult task of getting up. Lately, everything seemed like an impossible action that his body was unable to perform.

He felt a warm body brush against him and the touch of flesh made him cringe.

Ever since the funeral, George hated the heat, the feel, the texture of skin.

_George looked in at the casket that had been conjured up for Fred the moment the Weasleys returned to the Burrow. George was the last one to look down at Fred for the last time._

_He placed a hand at his brother's ankle, not ready to look at his face yet. Slowly, George dragged his hand up his brother's leg, torso, and finally rested on Fred's shoulder. He watched as his hand rose and fell with the dips in Fred's body, the creases in his dragon suit that Ginny insisted on burying him in. George now lifted his eyes off of Fred's shoulder and onto his face._

_He examined the freckles, the eyelashes touching the top of Fred's cheeks; his soft red hair was brushed back from his face, still singed from the battle. George ruffed Fred's hair for the last time, making it looked windswept, like Fred had just gotten off a broomstick. With a final clap to his shoulder, George took a step away from his twin and started back to his remaining family._

_George had only taken two steps when he realized that he was not done saying good bye to his twin, his best friend. He quickly turned around, rushed back to the casket to see Fred again. Hurriedly, as though he would lose his nerve and break down if he took too long, George moved his head down to Fred's ear._

_"__Good bye, Fred. I-I love you," George whispered, his voice cracking. He pressed his lips to Fred's cheek, and he could feel the small amount of stubble left, feeling rough on his lips. This was the last feel of Fred that he would ever have. No more claps on the shoulders, no more brotherly hugs. And then George pulled away. He pulled away forever._

George flinched at the memory. Fred's skin had been so cold, so different that all the times blood had rushed through his body. George couldn't bear to feel warm skin anymore, it sickened him that Fred would never feel that way again.

He hardly took noticed that Ginny seemed to have given up on him and was walking away until he heard her light footsteps on the wooden stairs, magnified by the echo.

As he started to make some beginning, unsteady steps, he heard his brothers pause in their conversation. Perhaps they thought it was George coming down the stairs, not Ginny, for there was a certain disappointment as they greeted her.

"Did you see George?" came the hollow voice George now associated with Percy. Percy had taken the end of the battle worse than most.

Ginny was going to say yes, George knew it. And then he would be found by his older brothers, forced into talking and spending time with them. "Recovering," they called it.

But Ginny's answer was not as he expected.

"No, I think he might still be in his room."

There was silence, and George felt something like gratitude for his little sister under the layers of sorrow.

_It was right after the funeral and George had finally finished being violently sick in the toilet. He was in his and Fred's old room, trying hard not to look at the bed that Fred would never sleep in again._

_Soon, he felt, rather than heard, someone at the door. He didn't look up at the intruder, not even ashamed that whoever was there would see him in this grief._

_After silence, there came a small voice._

_"__I have six brothers so I know better than nearly anyone else what a brother is like." There was a pause before Ginny continued. "And Fred was a good brother."_

_George didn't respond, didn't look at his sister. He didn't want to see a swollen face, lined with tears, as he was sure his face looked._

_Undaunted by his lack of attention, Ginny carried on, not moving from the door._

_"__I remember the summer that we went to Egypt to see Bill. I was sick, right after we got home from Hogwarts. Probably from that diary," she said, bitterly. George remembered._

_"__It was just a small cold, but Mum was so worried about me, after, well, everything that happened. She made sure that someone was watching me at all times of the day. I even had people sitting in my room with me while I slept._

_"__It was a lot of sleeping and a lot of annoyance, but one night made up for the whole illness. I woke up all hot and bothered, and Fred was sitting next to me with a cup of tea and a grin. He asked me how I was, talked to me for a while. …I guess he was lonely, since you had already fallen asleep in the other chair," she reminisced. George could practically hear the sad smile in her voice._

_"__Well, after we talked for a while, he said I looked 'right upset' and 'didn't want any sister of his to look that sad.' So he pulled a small box out of his pocket, opening it to reveal small fireworks._

_"__He told me that you and him had developed them, that they were small because they were prototypes. Fred let them loose in my room and it was all lit up. It was so pretty, I loved them so much," she finished. She had kept her voice fairly strong, until that last part._

_George was always slightly impressed with his sister. He knew he could not tell a story about Fred from start to finish without breaking off somewhere in the middle._

George never felt bad for not answering his sister. He understood that she and all of his brothers, as well, were upset by Fred's death. But none of them could ever compare to him. None of his siblings knew what this felt like. He refused to talk to them for as long as he could. George only talked to his mum and dad when needed because he felt that they were the closest to understanding George's complete devastation. They had lost a child.

His feet felt heavy as he trudged off to some destination still unknown to him. He felt no desire to go to his old room, but didn't know where else to go. His thoughts were interrupted as he heard a new voice on the floor below.

"Hello, everyone!" This voice was bright and it hurt George's remaining ear. How could anyone possibly so happy in this mess?

"Angelina."

A few indistinguishable voices could be heard in shock as they looked upon the visitor.

George felt his heart beat wildly, his blood cold. He hadn't thought of Angelina. She didn't know what had happened. She didn't know yet.

Racing down the stairs, fired by the need to be the one to tell Angelina, he moved faster than he had since the battle.

He reached the first landing, his eyes snapping frantically to the spot where Angelina stood in front of the fireplace. Apparently, she had just arrived by Floo Powder.

Quickly, her eyes caught George's and her entire face lit up. Her smile was radiant, and the others in the room turned to see George.

Bill, Charlie, Percy, and Ginny all looked at him, waiting for him to make a move. It was clear that Angelina had no idea that Fred, her love, was dead.

"How are you all? I'm sorry I didn't see you all after the battle, but I really felt like I had to see my mother. Let her know that I was alright and she didn't need to worry again," Angelina sounded apologetic that she had not been there right away, but George didn't blame her for wanting to see her mother. George knew, better now than ever, that family was so incredibly important.

"Hello, George!" Angelina called to him as he ventured forward closer to her.

"'Lo, Angelina," he managed to spit out; the beginning part of 'hello' had stuck in his throat.

She continued to beam at him and started to look behind George. He knew she was looking for an identical face.

"George, where's Fred? Upstairs?" she questioned. George looked at his siblings, willing for them to help. They only looked significantly back at him, sending messages with their eyes that told George that he needed to tell Angelina what happened. Now.

"Lina," George started out, using the nickname he had coined for her back in their days in Hogwarts together.

Angelina heard the hesitant tone in his voice, looked at the faces of all the red heads, and George watched as horrified comprehension befell her dark face. It seemed to take an age for the smile to leave her face, her eyes to cloud over. Her lithe body seemed to wilt, no longer held up straight.

"No," she whispered, shaking. George could practically hear the breaking of her heart, could practically feel her world crash around her. Angelina sank to the floor, facing downward, not looking at anyone else.

Her breathing came quick and fast and soon it seemed like she couldn't get enough of it. Her panting was harsh and she started to rock back and forth, tears threatening to spill from her almond eyes.

Out of the corner of his eyes, George saw Ginny make a movement as though to comfort Angelina, but he made sure that he got there first.

George sat down next to her, wrapped his freckled arms around her. No one said a word to cut the heart breaking silence, punctured only by Angelina's sobs.

She cried as though her soul was trying to wrench free from the prison of her body, as if all the tomorrows in the world were not worth the pain she felt right then.

Tears fell down his own face as he held Angelina close to him, rubbing her back. He listened to her try to murmur Fred's name, but it seemed too painful for her to make out the name. Throat tightening up as the words fall cracked in her mouth, George knew exactly how that felt.

George just kept her in his arms, wetting her hair with his tears as she was doing with her own tears on his own t-shirt. He didn't tell her to shush, knowing how much that had angered him when people told him to shush his crying. Nor did he say that it would be alright, because, honestly, it wouldn't be alright. Fred was gone, nothing would ever alright again.

How long they sat there, trying to rid their bodies of all the sadness in the world, George didn't know. He was surprised when he finally pulled his head out of Angelina's hair to see that there was no more sunlight coming out of the window and that his siblings were long gone. They had given him and Angelina space to mourn.

Angelina clung harder to George, but her sobs seemed to cease slightly. Her breathing was still ragged and coming in sharp gasps, but it was slowing down. George continued to rub her back, try to keep her body warm.

Her flesh didn't bother him like everyone else's had done. Maybe because she loved Fred and this loss was something that no one else could feel. George certainly did not know how to lose a lover, just as he didn't know how to lose a child. In the same way that he allowed himself to understand his parents' grief, he allowed himself to understand Angelina's. He let himself open up more with her than he did with his siblings. She would feel his pain in a way that none of his siblings could. George felt a bond with Angelina that he rarely felt with anyone else.

Their crying had long stopped, but Angelina did not yet let go of George and he did not yet stop rubbing her back. They were breathing as one, long deep breaths, trying to cleanse their bodies of the pain they both felt.

Finally, after ages, Angelina lifted her head off of George's chest.

"Did you bury him already?"

George, unable to vocalize his answer, nodded. Fresh tears leaked from Angelina's eyes, but she did not start sobbing again. She just lost some of the tight hold she had on George, keeping her hands looser around his body.

"Two days ago," he croaked after a long silence. "Right after we got back from…"

Hogwarts.

The War.

The Place Fred Last Laughed.

Angelina sniffed, understanding the unspoken words that hung heavily in the air. She stared at the floor, keeping her eyes off of George.

"How? How did it happen?" she whispered. Her words were thick and frightened, and George could feel her shudder.

With all of the strength in his body, he started to explain.

"There was a curse. Blew apart a wall at Hogwarts. Fred was in the rubble," George's words were short, his sentences choppy. It was the only way that he would be able to finish. "I don't think the wall killed him. Must have been the curse. His body was unharmed."

_George fell over with a bolt that coursed through his body. Bill, having just killed a Death Eater that the two had been fighting, was unaware of George's stance. It was the panting of George's labored body that brought Bill back to his surroundings._

_"__George, what's wrong? Did you get hit with something?" Bill asked, his voice high pitched, laced with fear._

_"__We have to go, we have to find Fred. Something's wrong."_

_George leapt from the tiled floor, running blindly down a corridor. He couldn't see straight, his whole body was entirely set on finding Fred. Something was wrong, something was terribly wrong._

_His breath was leaving his body, but he wouldn't give up. His twin was more important than air._

_Unaware of how far he had run, barely registering the fact that Bill was running to keep up with him, George threw curses left and right at the Death Eaters that he came across. Oliver Wood was fighting a still masked Death Eater, but George didn't stay to help him._

_The need to be with Fred was more powerful than ever. He needed his twin, he needed Fred._

_George raced down another hall where he saw red hair battling Rookwood. Percy, it was Percy._

_Percy had been with Fred when the four brothers had been forced to separate. Percy would know what happened to Fred._

_But Fred wasn't there._

_Bill set a curse at Rookwood, either killing him or just rendering him unconscious. George didn't know or care. All that  
mattered was Fred._

_Percy looked up to see who had helped him, only to look into the eyes of Bill. George could see tear streaks mark his cheeks. Then George watched Percy's eyes slid off of Bill's face and onto his own._

_Percy broke down, crying harder than George could ever remember. Bill took several long strides to hold his younger brother. Percy tried his hardest to look at George, but it seemed to cause him so much pain._

_"__I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Percy choked out. "I should have protected him, never should have let him…"_

_George's body went rigid. His senses were stronger than ever, all the sounds in the world were heightened, all the smells of blood and something burnt made his eyes sting, all the sights of the blood stains on the floors and the marks of curses that had rebounded off the walls. Each nerve of his body was alive with a sort of fervor, racing frantically within his skin._

_The war had to be over, for George didn't know how anyone could continue to fight when Fred was gone._

_But he could still hear fighting, the screams and wails were impossible to take from his mind. This was the proof he needed that Fred was alive. Because as long as there was fighting, there was Fred._

_Bill, never letting go of Percy, asked him to show them where the body was. George wanted to laugh. There was no body, just Fred's still living form. It was more than a body, it was a person. The most wonderful person in the world._

_Waiting for his brother to emerge, laughing at his joke, George followed the still sobbing Percy and the grief stricken Bill to a place in the castle where the wall had been blown off._

_Red hair._

_It gleamed like no other hair George had ever seen, except in a mirror. There were shoes made of dragon leather, the same color and size of George's. There was a striped shirt that George recognized from birthday time with his family. There was a hand, the grip slack on the wand that still lay on the palm._

_Fred._

_There was Fred._

_With a rush of sound in his ear, George lost all senses. He could not feel his body, could not make any sense of where his arms and legs were. Opposite to his sense being stronger just moments ago, now he was left with nothing._

_Fred had been his reason for sensing, for feeling. That reason was gone. Killed._

_Walking closer to the body, George thought he was floating. He could not feel his feet touch the ground, only stared as Fred's body got closer and closer. Light was thrown upon his twin's face as a spell light up the sky behind them._

_Fred was still smiling. His eyes were wide and gleaming and empty. George brought his hand down to shut Fred's eyes. He only wanted to see the smile._

"He was still smiling, Lina," George's voice was small and failing to sound comforting. "He never felt a thing."

Whether this was meant to comfort Angelina or not, George didn't know. He said it for his own needs as much as for hers. It seemed to suffice as Angelina nodded slowly, placing her head back onto his chest.

They sat in silence for the longest length yet, thinking of the boy they had both loved, no matter how differently. George felt more tired at that moment than he had. Admitting to someone else that Fred was dead had taken so much out of him that he felt that he could never be alert again. Angelina seemed to be just as exhausted as her body was slumped in the most uncomfortable way.

"Lina, would you, I mean, do you want to go to his," George stalled, shutting his eyes, "grave?"

She shook her head, her black hair rubbing his cloth shirt.

"Not now. I don't want to see where he's dead."

She looked up meaningfully into George's eyes. He understood at once that she wanted to be where Fred had lived.

"I'll take you to the shop."

It was not an offer, just a statement. "I need your help to Apparate to the apartment though. I, I don't think I can do it myself," George said, weakly.

With a last sweeping look at the living room of the Burrow, Angelina and George clasped hands and made the journey together, both unable to perform the magic alone. As they left the Burrow, George wondered if Angelina would ever be able to enter the house again. He still wondered how he managed to.

His thoughts were broken as they were suddenly standing in front of the joke shop that had once been his and Fred's. No, that was_ still_ his and Fred's.

Fiercely, he felt that he would never think of this shop as solely his own. This had been a dream the two had shared for more than half their lives. George could never have managed this on his own. Fred was the one that came up with the ideas, Fred was the one who fixed out the small details. He never could have done it without Fred… Could he do it now, as the remaining part of the set?

Angelina tugged on George's right sleeve, reminding him that she was still there. She motioned to the shop door, ignoring the sympathetic looks of the people in Diagon Alley that were watching the pair struggle. George gave a somewhat curt nod in their direction, not wanting to be near the goggling stares, and set forth to the door.

The handle felt cold under his hand, it had not been touched in ages. George, with a jolt to his systems, remembered that it had been Fred who touched the knob last. Disregarding this notion, George pushed the door, a bell ringing to the shadows inside that a customer had arrived.

Everything was dark, and the few objects that George could make out were dusty and there were cobwebs galore. The once brightly colored treats and jokes were dull in the faded light and gray dust. They, too, seemed to have diminished in the absence of Fred.

He turned to Angelina, expecting her to been looking for the door to the flat he and Fred used to share upstairs. But her eyes were instead on a spot on the floor that was blackened.

"George, what happened here?" Her voice was high, not thick like it had been at the Burrow.

George stared at the spot where Angelina pointed one of her long fingers at. There was a dark outline on the orange floor, caused by Dark Magic.

"That, that is where Verity died."

_Fred and George arrived at their shop, quieter than usual. Traveling to Diagon Alley was harder and harder each day, knowing that the Death Eaters that roamed the streets knew of their "traitorous" wizarding ways. Though they always felt safe in each others' presence, they could not say the same about being around the others._

_Still, they had needed supplies for their flat above the shop. Arms laden with groceries, they had made their way back to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Entering the seeming empty shop, George wondered if they would get any customers that day or if it would be as empty as it had been the last few weeks._

_He heard his twin gasp and drop the food he had been holding._

_"__Fred, what did you do that for? We need that and I don't want to have to go back to the store to--"_

_The words were cut short as Fred threw an arm out to keep George from walking any further. Fred shifted his body so that he was no longer directly in front of George and George could now see what had stopped Fred._

_Verity lay on the ground, her body in a position too unnatural to be real. Her blonde hair streamed over the floor, her eyes blank, but with a look of fear still resting on her features. Her body was small and it was the last thing George saw as he and Fred wordlessly Apparated to a place right near the Burrow._

_It was no longer safe in Diagon Alley. They were now being chased._

_Verity was dead, indirectly, by their hand. George felt immeasurably guilty, crying soft and messy while Fred did the same next to him. Hugging each other, the twins mourned for their co worker and friend._

Angelina gave an odd shivering movement and George wondered if she was going to be ill. Wordlessly, they stepped over the black outline on the ground. They both agreed silently, that it would be too disrespectful to walk onto of Verity's last mark.

George opened the door, and walked through first. Perhaps he should have been a gentleman and let Angelina walk in before himself, but tonight wasn't about being polite.

Their feet padded the ground softly on the carpeted stairs. George had never noticed how narrow the staircase was. When Fred was there, he couldn't remember walking up the stairs, could only remember laughing with his twin. But now, without Fred, he felt like the walls would constrict and close in.

Finally, the arduous trip up the stairs was finished as George and Angelina entered the flat. George felt his heart seize up and suddenly, he wished that the stairs had never ended, that he was still climbing them. He didn't want to be in this room.

Unable to move, he looked around the rooms the he and Fred had once shared, barely a few months ago. Everything looked… cold.

The couch clearly showed that no one had lounged in it in so long. It had dusted over. The floor looked as though it needed cleaned, and it probably did. No windows had been opened in so long, the air was stale. No smells of bad cooking or experiments entered George's nostril. Nor could he hear Fred's creative swearing as he tinkered with different ingredients.

George wondered what would happen if he just shut his eyes and pretended that everything was the way it had been before. It wouldn't be a lie, it wouldn't be imaginary. George knew there was no way that he could trick himself into believing that Fred was still joking. But, pretending could be wonderful…

Angelina placed her slim hand on George's back, pressing him slightly to go further into the flat. He almost forgot her as he had stopped short near the couch. He watched her as she moved towards the arm chair that sat off to the side of the sofa. Watching the progress of her hand as it trailed over the fabric, George felt a lump form in his throat.

Shaking his head, he knew he had to keep moving. With a new purpose, he trudged around the main room. His feet sounded loud to his ear, booming with each step he took.

George made his way over to the large fireplace that was now black and distinctly cold, like the rest of the room.

He looked over the mantle, seeing the pictures he and Fred had placed there. There were various pictures of family members, friends, and, of course, their old Quidditch players. It had long been decided that they were a league separate from all the rest.

One by one, George lowered the picture frames, ignoring the frantic waves the people in the photographs made to stop him. Each picture had Fred beaming in the background. George didn't trust himself to look at Fred. He reached the last picture in the row, and paused a moment.

It was a picture their mum had taken before the two had gone to Hogwarts. They were wearing matching clothes, and identical grins. There was a comfortable feel lined in each boy's face, as they had their arms loosely around each other's necks. George watched his former self turn to the younger Fred, his face lit up in a laugh. Soon, younger-Fred joined younger-George in a side splitting laugh that made their excitement explode over the photograph.

Back in the present day, George slammed the frame down hard onto the mantle. There was movement and a gasp behind him as the glass shattered. George turned to see that Angelina had been startled by the noise. She was standing in the archway between the kitchen and the sitting room, evidently scared. Her eyes fell to the broken glass on the mantle and then looked up at George.

"You, erm, startled me," she apologized, tearing her eyes away. She started to turn away, but not before George saw more tears spring into her eyes. He felt completely disgusted with himself, how could he have made Angelina cry again? Why could he not get a grip?

_'__I've lost people before. This has never been so hard, not like this,'_ he thought, frantically. 'Of course, Fred had always been there to calm me down, to cheer me up.'

Who was going to make George calm now?

Desperate to look anywhere but at the defeated form of Angelina, George turned his head so violently, he felt as though he had pulled a muscle. Rubbing the back of his neck, he looked to the wall off to the side of the fireplace.

His heart stopped.

Fred was there! Fred was looking right at him, staring him in the face. Everything was going to be alright, everything was fine! Fred was here! As George rushed to his twin, he could just imagine what Fred would say…

_"__You git, you made Angie cry! And, are you crying, too? You _git!_ You knew I'd be back. Now open the shop up, we have so many customers coming to see us."_

There would be laughter in his voice, and he would playfully shove George off towards the door leading to the stairs as he walked over to hug Angelina.

Barely breathing for the excitement of the moment, George reached his brother. Only, something was missing. Fred seemed unbalanced. George looked him over, tilting his head to the side. Fred did the same. Looking at how his head was angled, George saw that Fred was missing an ear, just like he was. Slowly, George reached out to touch Fred's blackened hole where his ear used to be. He wanted to comfort his brother, tell him that it would be alright, only hearing on one side.

All thoughts of comfort left his mind as his hand hit a cool, smooth surface.

Breathing hard, George pushed the palm of his hand harder and harder onto the surface. He refused to believe that it was a mirror. How could it be his reflection? Everything had been riding on that hope, how could it dangle in front of him like the sickest joke he had ever seen?

He wanted to curse the mirror for all its heartless properties, want to yell and scream and break the mirror into one million pieces. George wanted nothing better than to stamp his feet, cry, and throw the biggest tantrum he could think of. Maybe ricochet spells off the walls and make as much noise and damage as he could. 

Maybe that would calm his insides down.

He had to do something; his insides were bursting to escape him. Clutching his stomach, George could feel his muscles contracting and releasing, as though preparing themselves for the puddles of sick that were sure to appear on the dusty carpet any second now.

Squeezing his eyes shut, George swallowed the bile threatening to come up. His face was twisted against the howl of anger that was trying desperately to escape. It took several moments for George to regain control of his body, and in those few moments, all his energy was gone. He no longer wanted to throw spells carelessly around, what if Angelina was hit?

Opening his watering eyes, George looked back at his reflection, staring it down. He stared until the image in front of him turned sharp, and then smudged as though a giant invisible hand rubbed it. Once all the colors had completely blended together, George finally blinked and looked away.

_"__Tela,"_ he murmured, and instantly a thin cloth of drab color and material fell from the tip of his wand. Cocking an eyebrow slightly, he looked at the fabric. Normally, he would produce warm cloths of vibrant colors. Had all the color in the world disappeared with Fred?

Shrugging off his apparently loose grip on magic, George draped the cloth loosely over the mirror. He no longer wanted to see the mocking reflection.

"Erm."

A voice that sounded far away brought him back to the apartment. George turned to Angelina, who looked as though she had never seen anything quite so sad before.

"Erm, George. Would you, I mean to say, should I make some tea?" God help her, she looked so awkward, drawing circles in the carpet with her shoes. She was biting her lip, maybe she was holding back tears. George didn't know.

"No, thanks, Lina. I'd rather just…" he trailed off, not really knowing how to answer the question. He had drunk so much tea in the past few days. His mum seemed to think that tea was the cure-all and had been making it in buckets. There was a new mug of tea for George nearly every hour. It didn't matter if the last mug had still been sitting there, full to the brim with cold tea that he hadn't touched.

Tea had lost its flavor since before the battle.

_George drained the last dregs of his tea, staring at the bottom of his mug. Fred sat next to him at their Auntie Muriel's table, drumming his fingers erratically on the wooden surface. George saw that Fred's eyes were darting back and forth between the small staircase to his right and the back door to his left. To the same tempo of Fred's dancing fingers, George's leg was jiggling beneath the table. He watched Fred's eyes make their dash between the two locations._

_"__Would you stop staring at me?" Fred near snapped at George. George felt slightly offended by the comment, and also a bit worried. Normally Fred would make a comment about how George couldn't stop staring at his good looks, or some other joke that would make them both laugh. But not now, there was too much tension._

_"__Sorry," George replied shortly. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm just as nervous as you. Yelling isn't going to help a thing."_

_"__I didn't yell," Fred remarked in a low, though admittedly kinder, voice. "I wonder where Ginny is. If we want to leave without Muriel seeing us, we're going to have to hurry it up a bit."_

_George nodded, unsure of what to say. Moments ago, they had received messages from Bill telling them that the Battle at Hogwarts was going to begin soon. Ginny had yelled and screamed until they agreed to take her with them to the school. Actually, it had been the threat of the Bat Bogey Curse that convinced them that she would be a helpful asset._

_George could hear small footsteps overhead and down the stairs and then watched as a pair of old trainers made their way into the kitchen. Ginny had gathered some items she must have thought she would need for there was a small knapsack in her hands. Waveringly, she stared at the twins who still sat at the table. Fred and George stood up slowly, glancing outside to see if Muriel could see them._

_George's vision was soon obstructed as red hair appeared in front of him. Small arms wrapped around his neck, and there was a scent of flowery perfume filling his nostrils. Ginny was hugging him with all the force in the world. Without completely letting go, Ginny detached one of her arms from his neck to pull Fred closer to her. She hugged them fiercely and the two brothers held her just as close._

_"__Fred, George," came a muffled voice from between the twins' heads. George nodded, nuzzling his baby sister with his nose. "I just want to let you know that I love you both. So much._

_"__It's stupid to think that we will all make it out okay. I just, I just want to let you both know that I love you so much. So very much," Ginny repeated, sounding like she had a head cold. "You cheered me up when I needed cheering, you protected me, you always made me laugh."_

_With a final squeeze, she turned her head to kiss each brother on the cheek before pulling away. Fred smiled at her, and leaned over to press his lips on the top of her head._

_"__Any time, Gin. We love you, too."_

_George nodded his agreement, holding Ginny's arm, pecking her cheek._

_"__That's right. And no more of this depressing notion. A Weasley twin die? Hah, there are too many more jokes to be said."_

_"__Too many pranks to be pulled!" Fred finished, grinning wildly. Ginny gave a shaky laugh and proceeded to walk out the front door where Muriel could not see them Disapparate._

_George made to follow his sister, but Fred held his arm, stopping his progress._

_"__George, what Ginny said," Fred started, staring hard at his twin, not taking his hand off of Fred._

_George felt a surge of affection for his twin, staring just as hard back._

_"__I know, Fred."_

_They looked at each other, identical in practically every aspect, drinking in each other's appearance as though it was the last time they'd ever see each other. Images of all the times they had spent together their entire lives flashed in front of George's eyes, but in the center of it all, he could still see Fred staring at him._

_"__I want you to know that I feel the same way," they said quickly in the same instance. Smiles lit up their faces, they loved thinking the exact same thing._

_Fred gave a tug on George's arm, pulling him closer. They hugged tightly, in a way they had not hugged since they were little and long hugs were still acceptable. His arms tight around Fred's waist, George kept his head close to Fred's. He could feel Fred's chest exactly across from his own and he felt their hearts beating at the exact same pace._

_One heart with two bodies, it seemed._

_George had rarely felt this close to his brother before and smiled into the shaggy red hair of his twin. It took ages for them to pull apart, but soon they reached Ginny. Grinning over their sister's head, they looked at each other. George knew that everything was going to be fine. As long as Fred was with him, everything was going to be fine._

He shook his head, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. His confrontation with the mirror seemed to have placed a bravery in him that he had not been able to imagine before.

"Lina, Lina, let's go into the bedroom."

Angelina gave him a look that clearly said, _This is hardly the time._ She seemed to have forgotten the circumstances that they were in, placing her hands in her hips and raising her eyebrows. The look was so reminiscent of all their years together at Hogwarts that George almost smiled.

"Er, not like that. I just meant, maybe we should go into the bedroom. And, and look around," he offered as a better explanation. She stared him right in the eye, trying to find an alternative motive for bringing her into the bedroom. It was something so common, so ordinary for Angelina to do. It was the first breath of fresh air since the Last Battle.

She walked ahead of George, and pulled open the door to the bedrooms. George saw lights from the sitting room and kitchen enter it, banishing some of the shadows into hiding.

Angelina turned the lights on with her wand, and walked in slowly. George felt like she was being swallowed up into the room. He followed her more out of the need to save her than anything. From the moment that the door had opened, he had not wanted to enter.

Part of George felt that as long as the door was shut, there was a chance that Fred might be sitting on his bed, waiting for George to enter.

George wasn't sure how he was going to feel if he entered the room and didn't see Fred's shining face looking back at him, eager to tell some joke or idea. Pushing this thought to the back of his mind, George plucked up the courage to cross the small sitting room into the bedroom.

Bracing himself for the impact, George shut his eyes before crossing from the gray carpet of the sitting room to the blue carpet of the bedroom. Once he felt himself cross the doorway, he knew that he was going to have to look around.

In the same manner that he had looked at his twin in his casket, George opened his eyes, looking at the carpet, slowly his eyes around slowly, leaving the most poignant visions for last.

The carpet was light blue and just as dusty as the carpet in the sitting room. He could see burn marks on the carpet beneath the large desk that was located in the middle of room. Smiling slightly, George realized they were there from the last bit of experimenting that he and Fred had taken part of. The part of the desk that was not covered in old parchment, candy, and odds and ends was filthy with dust.

Over the desk was a small window, grimy with dirt that had not been cleaned since Fred and George had moved in over a year ago. The twins had never been much for cleaning spells. The window was dark, but George knew that in the light, it looked out over the tops of some of the smaller shops nearby in Diagon Alley.

Covering the walls were posters of Quidditch teams and bands that the twins had loved. The moving pictures zoomed on broomsticks or slammed hard on their drums. They continued moving as though nothing else had stopped in the world. To the left of the window, there was George's side of the bed. The covers had been pulled up over towards the pillows, but it was not at all neat. His clothes spilled out from the floor of his full wardrobe, littering the floor.

There were silvery cobwebs in the corners, but George failed to see any spiders. He figured he would find them crawling around the edges of the floor, or even possibly nesting in the brown blankets on his bed. How anything could live in the dust was beyond him, but then again, his mother had always been surprised that Fred and George could sleep with the smell of smoke filling their bedroom at the Burrow.

Maybe the smell of dust reminded the spiders of their home the way that burnt objects reminded George of his home.

Hearing a noise behind him, George knew it was time to acknowledge the fact that a whole other bed still resided in the small bedroom. Turning slowly, George wondered how he could have ever thrown spells out quicker than Death Eaters. Now, shifting his body slightly seemed to take an era to complete and was much more complicated.

Finally, his lead-filled body faced Angelina. She was staring at Fred's empty bed, glassy eyed, but not crying. One hand hung lifelessly by her side while the other was held close to her mouth, as though testing to see if she was still breathing. George turned his attention to the bed as well, taking in each aspect.

He wanted to be able to count the threads that made up the brown blankets twisted around the end of the bed. He wanted to stare at the creases in the pillow that had last been made by Fred's sleeping head. George stared for a few moments, listening to Angelina's breathing in the background.

And then, all of a sudden, George didn't want this image burned into his memory. He didn't want to see a dust covered bed that had clearly not been lived in for months. In the same instance, he realized that this bed was no where near as emotional as the bed back at the Burrow had been. Fred's life had not started or ended in this room. He and George had not concocted hundreds of jokes within these walls. So many laughs had been completed outside the doors.

This room, this bed, was not as heart breaking as everything else George had seen lately.

With that thought, he unceremoniously threw himself onto Fred's bed. The dust rose around, making him sneeze, until he pulled his wand out.

_"__Scorgify,"_ he wheezed, cleaning the bed of most of the dust. That, at least, lessened the sneezes. George patted the mattress next to him, indicating that Angelina should sit next to him. She had been staring horrified as he straightened himself out into a sitting position on the edge, his feet resting on the floor.

Wide eyed, he watched Angelina pull herself together enough to take her own seat. The mattress groaned with the extra weight as though it were as weary as the pair sitting on it.

The two friends sat comfortably in the dim light, their shoulders brushing slightly. It was the barest amount of contact, but George felt extremely comforted by it. He could feel the weight in his chest lessening with each brush of Angelina's shirt on his. Angelina must have relaxed some as well, for he watched her shoulders lower from the hunched up position they had been in for the majority of the night. Her long form bent over the edge of the bed to pick up a lone black sock that had once been Fred's.

"You're welcome to keep that, if you want," George told her quietly. It had just occurred to him that perhaps Angelina would want a keepsake.

"I've smelled enough socks for a lifetime in those Quidditch changing rooms," Angelina said in a tone that might be thought joking if it weren't so thick. "But, could I have something else instead?"

She looked so hopeful at him that George couldn't say no. With a slight nod of his head, she lifted her body off of the bed. With two small steps, Angelina walked right over to the wardrobe on the wall opposite the bedroom. Fred's wardrobe was firmly shut, unlike George's. Angelina pulled the small brass handles with long skinny fingers and then doors appealed to her.

Immediately, she started running her hands over the fabrics that she faced. Her dark fingers stood out against the magenta work robes that still hung. She looked with longing at the old school robes that were kept as a keepsake, as well as the old red and gold Quidditch robes that Fred had not been able to part with. Slowly and deliberately, as though it were an art, Angelina fingered every piece of clothing in the small wardrobe.

George saw her eyes lit up with happiness when she saw a familiar cloth. She handled everything with such a caring hand that George wondered if she imagined Fred still wearing them. Finally, she came across a navy sweater with a large yellow F on it. If George had thought there was care in her movements before, it was nothing like the tenderness he now witnessed.

Her eyes swelled, but not with tears. There was such happiness in them that nearly broke George's heart. Her thick lips formed a small slight smile on her face that seemed to wake up her insides. Angelina's body practically morphed from the tensed shell it had been for the past few hours to a body that could rival someone completely relaxed.

Pulling the sweater completely out of the wardrobe, Angelina held it up to her body. She looked at George and gave him a _Well, what do you think?_ type of look.

"His Christmas sweater? Lovely, Lina," he answered her, marveling in her happiness and wonder.

"I always loved your mum's sweaters. Once, in sixth year, Fred let me wear this one. It was so lovely and warm, and it smelled of pies," Angelina sounded almost excited, staring at the think warm cloth. Then, without further ado, she pulled the sweater over her head. Emerging from the top, her hair was tousled, but her face was beaming.

"Lovely, Lina," George repeated, not lying at all.

"Thanks, George. I can wear this whenever I want to feel warm. It's almost as though Fred is hugging me again," she near whispered. She looked down at the sleeves that extended several inches past her fingertips. The lower edge of the sweater fell down past her bottom. Tall as Angelina was, Fred had been taller and stockier, causing Angelina to look engulfed in the sweater.

George gave a small grin at her sight, which caused her to smile even more broadly. She took a few steps back to bed, practically bouncing back on.

"I love this, it's like having him back!" she breathed in his face. Her tone was warm and comforting, and George nodded his agreement. In that moment, George took in the full of Angelina's face. Her eyes, alert more now than ever, were almond shaped and the color of chocolate, the color that matched her skin so perfectly. Her cheekbones were high and her chin was small, tapering off to show a long skinny neck that disappeared into the depths of the green sweater.

Her eyebrows were full and her lips were parted slightly from the small thrill she received from the Weasley sweater. She was staring at George as though she had never seen him before this moment in time; he had never seen her look that way towards him.

Her hands, he was surprised to find, were now on his cheeks. He could feel the heat of her thin hands on his cheeks through the thick fabric. She was right, it was so soft and warm. She seemed to be moving quickly towards his face, landing her lips directly on his.

A million thoughts exploded into George's head, but he couldn't grasp any one of them. Everything was spinning in a most horrible fashion. Angelina pressed harder and harder against him, George could practically taste the bitter hunger that she was throwing into the kiss.

He lifted his hands to her shoulders, not to deepen the kiss, but to push her away. He did so, gently and firmly. Her eyes had popped open and were looking furiously into his. Angelina was daring him to explain why he stopped, why he didn't let her continue when he knew that's what she had wanted.

George knew why she had done it though, did not feel at all accusatory towards Angelina. He only felt depthless guilt as he voiced the only words that could come to his mind sensibly.

"Lina, I'm not Fred."

* * *

Well, there's chapter one. I cried so hard when I read Fred's death in the 7th book. I slammed the book shut, threw it down, and started sobbing. "I don't want to read anymore!" It took about 15 minutes and half a box of tissues for me to calm down enough to keep reading. I've read the book twice more since then and each time I cry when Fred dies. I wanted to write a fan fic in honor of him.This will be a three part story, so expect chapter two to arrive shortly. Please review and keep your hearts full of love for the Pranksters.  



	2. Broken Heart

There was a certain elixir in wearing a Weasley sweater. Angelina had felt complacent the first time she wore this sweater and felt the same happy warmth spreading inside her now. Regardless of the painful loss she was going through, Angelina couldn't help but feel almost giddy in the lovely sweater. 

Bouncing onto Fred's old bed, she looked at George. He was giving her a somewhat bemused look through his tired eyes. He gave a weary smile as she turned her full attention onto him.

He looked so much like Fred, Angelina had to think. She stared at his face, counting his freckles. He had the same number as Fred had, the same hair that flopped into his eyes the same way. His eyes could have been Fred's.

And for a moment, she thought they _were _Fred's.

The warmth of the sweater was intoxicating. The moment was way over her head, as she stared harder and harder at the twin in front of her. The edges of the twin's face were blurred and she could hardly tell if it was Fred or George in front of her. From the sweater emitted the gunpowder and soap scent that she associated with Fred. Her mind buzzed and her lips parted with the lull.

Her arms reached out to hold the pasty face of her companion. The sweater was still covering her hands, but Angelina could still feel the soft pudgy skin of cheeks. Drinking in the view, she leaned in closer and closer.

Fred was in front of her.

Her lips were aching with want and need as she finally pressed them to Fred's mouth. Hungrily, she rubbed her lips on his, waiting for his reaction. Everything was entirely hazy as she forced herself harder and harder upon Fred.

She wanted more. She wanted to run her hands through his hair. She wanted to feel his hands at the back of her neck. Angelina's lips actually hurt as she kissed with a desire that filled her to the brim.

Without opening her eyes, she could sense movement from under her lips. Soon, she felt hands on her shoulders. But before she had a chance to deepen the kiss under Fred's reaction, she felt herself being pushed away.

The large freckled hands were firm on her thin shoulders, but not at all harsh. Angrily, she opened her eyes. She looked with rage at Fred, wondering with all her heart why he didn't let her continue. Hadn't he wanted this as much as her? She thought he loved her.

Fred opened his mouth, and for all of Angelina's silent protests, she felt sympathy for the intense look of apology on his face.

"Lina, I'm not Fred."

The words smacked her in the face like a wet towel. They stung, made her eyes burn. Blinking rapidly, she registered what she had just heard.

Then, with a blow to her heart, Angelina knew it was true.

_Lina_

Fred never called her that. In all the years that she knew Fred, she had always been Angie to him. Lina, who called her Lina?

As though waking from a trance, Angelina remembered George. He had been the one to call her Lina, he was the one sitting beside her. George, it was George, looked at her as though feeling personally responsible for hurting her again.

The burning sensation in her eyes made her vision sharp and she looked harder at the face in front of her. It was so obviously George's face staring back at her that Angelina felt foolish for ever making the mistake in the first time. She had always been able to tell the difference between the twins, ever since their first year together at Hogwarts.

Fred had a thinner face.

George had larger eyes.

Fred had a mole on his left temple.

George had a slightly more upturned nose.

The differences were blazingly apparent to Angelina, who had spent so much time with each twin. She had spent many hours watching them, Fred in particular. How could she have ever confused them?

"George, oh, George, I'm sorry," Angelina sputtered out, mortified by her mistake. George just shook her apology away. "You just, you look just like Fred, you know. For the most part."

The corners of George's mouth twitched as he looked wistfully at Angelina.

"Yeah, we used to get that a lot, actually," he said, reaching out to hold her hand gently.

It was that simple act of tenderness that convinced Angelina that George was not upset by the mistake. Feeling more at ease, she thought more of the kiss. She should have known the minute her lips touched George's that it was the wrong twin. Fred had kissed so differently. Each kiss was etched in her mind, all starting from the night of the Yule Ball.

_"__You weren't surprised when I asked you to the Ball," Fred stated. He looked at her, waiting for her to answer._

_She had known that he was going to ask her. He hadn't promised in advance, there were no rumors. She had just known in the same way that birds know to fly south for the winter._

_"__I know." She answered, grinning a grin that she hoped would match his._

_"__You weren't surprised when we danced."_

_"__I know."_

_"__You don't get surprised much. Wait, don't say you know!" he laughed at her opened mouth. "I'm going to surprise you sometime tonight. I am a Weasley after all."_

_Angelina moved closer to him, bringing herself one step closer to his cheerful gaze. He took this slight movement as a sign that she was listening very intently._

_"__I'm going to kiss you tonight." The sentence was simple and it felt to Angelina like everything made sense. They had kissed on the cheek before, kissed each other on the head, or on the forehead. It only made sense that they finally, really kiss._

_"__I know." Her answer made him exasperated and she knew it. She loved to egg him on like this. He grinned roguishly, and then looked somewhere behind her._

_"__Angie, Snape is coming! And, dear God, is that really what he's wearing?" Fred's expression was a mixture of excitement and disgust and Angelina whipped around to see if there was any truth._

_Once she checked, it was obvious that he was lying, just trying to get a rise out of her, to make her look._

_"__Oh, Frederick Weasley, what—"_

_Her sentence was silenced as lips crushed hers. His lips, she realized. Fred Weasley was kissing her, Angelina Johnson. He put one hand on the back of her head, to keep her from pulling away. Angelina didn't think she could pull away even if she wanted to, she was enjoying herself too much._

_Her response to the kiss led Fred to place his other hand on her cheek, and her to lightly grasp his shoulders. They stayed still, just reveling in the touch of lips on lips, nothing more intense than that. Angelina tried to memorize the feel of him on her, but before she was even close to knowing the whole of it, the kiss ended._

_Fred looked her in the eyes, a spark there that she had never seen before. He was slightly out of breath and looked as excited as she had ever seen him. Keeping his hand on the side of her face, he brushed her cheek with his thumb._

_"__I wanted to tell you something. And not have you say 'I know'."_

So different, it was almost funny. But Angelina didn't have the energy to laugh. She wondered if she ever would again. Laughter seemed pointless now. Without purpose or meaning, and there was virtually nothing to provoke laughter from her anymore.

"Are you alright, Angelina?" George ventured to say. He looked cautiously at her.

Curious as to why he would make that comment, she looked at him strangely.

"Lina, you're crying."

Angelina darted her tongue out on the side of her face. Sure enough, there were fresh tears trekking their way down. Angelina hadn't even realized what had started this new offset of tears, but she didn't seem to be able to stem the flow. George wiped her cheeks as Angelina gave a hearty sniff.

"I wish you wouldn't cry," he told her simply. "You know, sometimes I wish…" George stopped talking, removed his hand from her face. He shifted his body so that his legs were dangling off the side of the bed. He held his face in his hands with his elbows on his knees.

"George?" Angelina croaked, worried for her best friend.

"Sometimes," George continued, his voice thick, still not looking up from his hands, "I wish that I had died instead of Fred."

His words were like an anvil falling from the ceiling: heavy and unexpected and not at all welcome.

Angelina realized with a jolt that George must have been feeling this way from the time of Fred's death. For days, he must have held that guilt in. She imagined that this was the first time George had ever spoken his thoughts, by the way that he was now sobbing into his hands. He seemed convulsed with raw sorrow; his body was contorted into a guilt stricken pose.

For a moment, Angelina considered what would have happened if it had been George that died instead of Fred. Would she be happier?

No. No, she decided. There was no way this could have ended happily and Angelina knew that losing George would have put a stopper on her life the same way that losing Fred had.

"George," she whispered, leaning closer to the heaving body. "George, never wish that. You think Fred would have been able to handle it if you were dead and he was alive? He'd feel this same way. George, don't wish you were dead."

She placed her head on his back, listened to his racing heartbeat. Angelina rubbed his back the way that he had rubbed hers a few hours ago.

"Angelina, if I had died instead, you'd still have him," George cried, sobbing even harder.

With her head still against his heated back, Angelina shook her head.

"You might be right, but I wouldn't have you. George, if you died, it would break my heart. I love you. Not the way I love Fred, but, George, if you had died, I'd still be sitting in this room, crying my heart out." She paused to listen to his sobbing subsiding slightly as though he was honestly listening to her.

There was a long stretch where neither of them spoke. George hiccupped still, but his tears had ceased. Angelina never left his side, only moving her head from his back to his shoulder when he finally sat up. Resting with her eyes shut, she felt his head shift.

"Lina, you would have made a wonderful sister-in-law," George spoke into her hair. Angelina just squeezed her eyes tighter, and snuggled closer to him.

_Angelina was blowing bubbles for her two favorite men in the entire world. Fred and George Weasley sat on the floor in their flat above their store, popping the bubbles that Angelina blew for them._

_It was an average night, Angelina came to visit them once work had been done at Honeydukes, where Angelina was a full time worker. The three of them had already eaten a dreadful dinner that the twins had made, and enjoyed the goodies that Angelina had purchased from work._

_Currently, she sat on their couch, playing with the twins' newest creation. They were bubbles in a thick red container, but instead of the bubbles being round each time, they came in the shapes of different animals. "Bubble Menagerie" they named it._

_George was poking at a dog bubble when he mentioned Bill's wedding._

_"__Shame you couldn't make it, Lina," he remarked idly._

_Both Fred and Angelina cringed. Bill's wedding was not a fond memory of theirs as they had been in a fight at the time. Fred had tried to get her and her to stay at the Burrow with him and his family so that she would be safe, but she refused to leave her home. She knew that would be no room at the Burrow and felt that she and her mother were both accomplished enough witches to handle themselves. The result of that argument had been that Angelina refused to go to the wedding as Fred's date. Even though the two had made up since then, the wedding was still not a topic they discussed._

_George apparently hadn't noticed their distasteful movements and carried on with what he had started saying._

_"__Mum was tearful through the whole thing. She had been breathing fire just a few days before that, trying to get us to make everything spotless," George observed a fish bubble floating through the air. "Fred, I think the tails on the fish need to be more flexible. Anyway, when I get married, I might just elope. Avoid the whole crying Mum bit."_

_"__Ah, I see your point about the fish, George," Fred, too, was looking at the fish bubble. "I wouldn't elope though. I stand by what I said at the wedding. I'd just Body Bind Mum until it was all over."_

_"__And who would marry you?" George chuckled. "Lina?" The trio laughed and Fred looked at his girlfriend._

_"__Well, Angie?" his tone was joking._

_"__Perhaps. If I have the time," Angelina answered him straight but with a smile gracing her face. She looked Fred directly in the eye. His bright red gash of a mouth opened wide and it took a second for him to compose himself._

_Angelina saw him glance over at George, wondering, too, if George had noticed a shift in the air. Evidently he had, for he announced immediately that he was going to get ready for bed._

_"__Lina, I doubt I'll see you off, so good night. See you next week?" George asked her questioningly as he hugged her good bye. She nodded. Satisfied with her answer, he kissed her sweetly on the cheek. George was off to bed, but not before giving a meaningful look to his brother that Angelina was sure he had not intended for her to see._

_Fred nodded, and watched his brother walk off into the adjacent room where the beds were. Without looking at Angelina, he picked up the bubbles where she had left them in order to hug George._

_He blew a rather large elephant, duck, and fox before finally looking at Angelina._

_"__Well, Angie?" Fred's tone was no longer comical._

_She looked at him, and was surprised by his facial expression. Angelina had rarely seen him as anything but supremely confident, and was slightly shocked to see that he was pale with anticipation. He stood up from his seat on the floor to sit next to her on the stuffy couch. His eyes never left hers and were searching her, waiting for her reaction._

_Angelina smiled at him, she had known he was going to ask, just like she had known he was going to ask her to the Yule Ball._

_She nodded._

_Immediately, Fred's shoulders relaxed and he threw her a lazy smile. He must have felt as languid as her. Languid, but exceedingly happy. …Almost giddy._

_With a joke playing on his freckled face, Fred raised the bubble wand. He blew softly and Angelina felt a dozen bubbles lightly explode on her cheeks and eyelids. She felt as though each one was a kiss from Fred._

Angelina felt emotionally drained as she had never felt before in her life. How wrong everything had turned out… She should be celebrating with the rest of the world, cheering that You-Know-Who was gone forever. But no, she was sitting on a bed that would never be slept in again by its rightful owner. She couldn't look any further into her future as her future had died in the Last Battle.

Fred was supposed to be her everything.

"He wanted a big family," George interrupted her thoughts. "He told me about it before. After he proposed to you, he said how he wanted to start having kids as soon as possible. Said he wanted plenty of heirs to the joke shop." George gave a weak chuckle.

Angelina knew Fred had wanted a large family. She had wanted the same thing. Before, she could imagine a house filled to the point of bursting with small children. There would have been constant laughter, the sound of tiny feet racing around.

Fred would tell their children stories and she would listen to his tales of the adventures he and George got into while at school. She would have smiled fondly at her family sitting around Fred, giggling and loving.

Angelina felt heavier as she realized that these were completely unreachable dreams now.

Her face was not any wetter than it had been before. She wondered vaguely if she had used up all the tears her body had stored. Once, she heard from her mother that the body could only cry five hundred tears at a time.

Five hundred tears spilled and each one for her favorite Weasley men.

The silence that followed was filled with the bitterness of ones left alone. There was a whirring in Angelina's ear as though hornets had invaded. Her body was covered in a sheen of sweat and her head was pounding from all the deep crying. She was as dizzy as she had been when she kissed George, but not in the gleeful manner. This was a more sickening feel that seemed to consume her body, breaking her down atom by atom. Time was both racing and stopping inconsistently, and Angelina did not know what to do. It was not until George stirred that the world began to have form once again.

"Angelina?" George queried, mercifully breaking the silence.

"Yeah?"

"Things are supposed to get better after this, right?" His voice was so full of hope that it nearly killed Angelina to tell him the truth.

She struggled for a moment, not wanted to tell him what she really thought. But soon her mouth was answering his question before she had the chance to make a decision.

"No."

George's face fell. Brusquely, he turned away from her, obviously angered from her response.

"For the most part things will be better, at least. But there are going to be days when it's hard," Angelina elaborated. "Each birthday without him. Each Christmas without him."

Angelina paused, sneaking a glance at George to see if he was still angry with her. He seemed to have lost his anger, but it was replaced with a look so anguished that Angelina preferred the former. But, she needed to finish her thought.

"Every anniversary of his death. He's all you will think about on those days. Just… Fred."

George nodded, his face looking pained. With a grimace, he shut his eyes. Angelina wondered if he was holding back tears like she was. Or maybe, he was imaging Fred in some memory that they had shared.

"You won't be the only one to think of him though. Your mum and dad, your brothers and sister. They'll all think of him," Angelina told him, wondering if this would calm him or upset him.

George just shrugged his shoulders noncommittally.

"And I will, too," Angelina breathed, more to herself than to George. Small tears fell right from her eyes onto her lap, glistening in the low lights. Angelina forgot that George was sitting there as she thought back to the last day she had seen Fred.

_"__Angelina!"_

_She heard the cry before she even had a chance to take in her surroundings. There was a flash of bright red hair and Angelina was soon engulfed in a tangle of arms._

_She was hugging two people simultaneously, both of whom were laughing with glee. Prying herself out of their arms just far enough to be able to see them, she saw identical faces beaming at her._

_"__Fred, George!"_

_"__Angie!"_

_"__Lina!"_

_The greeting almost brought tears to her eyes, she was so excited to see them both._

_George pressed his lips to her cheek, making her laugh._

_"__Now, Georgie, I do believe that's my woman that you are trying to steal right in front of me," Fred wagged his finger disapprovingly._

_"__My apologies, brother," George answered, taking a step back and leaving Fred with a clear path to Angelina._

_Without further ado, Fred kissed her with fervor._

_"__How" kiss "are" kiss "you" kiss "doing?" He was kissing her between words, she could feel him smiling as their lips touched. Between his overly excited antics, and the looks of the other amused Weasleys and everyone else in the room, she was laughing too hard to answer._

_She responded by kissing him back with as much emotion, feeling that as long as this complete happiness lasted with her through the whole battle, she would be fine. Fred knew that's how she would feel going into the battle. He always knew what he was doing._

"You know, he never stopped thinking of you," George spoke in a low voice, breaking into her almost happy memory. Angelina peered at him through her eyelashes and saw that he was looking at the ceiling. She wondered for a moment if he was talking to her, but the thought was soon confirmed as he continued.

"At the wedding, he kept talking about you, Lina. He kept saying how mad he was and how he was glad that you didn't come to the wedding," he spoke slowly. "But that was a complete lie. You only had to look at his face when he was watching Bill and Fleur dance to know that he wanted you there."

George paused, as though to make sure Angelina was listening to him. Once he decided that she was, he carried on.

"I tried to get him to stop talking about you, but you know Fred. He denied that he mentioned you, but then kept talking about you. Made snide comments and had 'wishful thinking' written all over his face," George smiled faintly.

Angelina felt a smile on her own face as she listened to the rest of George's story.

"Well, after a while, me and Fred managed to get a pair of Fleur's veela cousins to ourselves," George shut his eyes at the memory while Angelina narrowed her own. What had Fred done? If he wasn't already dead, she would have to kill him.

"The woods provided slight disassociation from the party and I was completely at ease with Brielle. Fred, on the other hand, was not too comfortable with the whatsherface he was with." His tone was one of annoyance, but Angelina was feeling much better than he.

"He started telling his veela all about his time at Hogwarts. So, of course, you came up," George paused to give Angelina a look of disdain as though it had been her fault that Fred was head over heels for her. "Normally this wouldn't bother me, but then the little prick decided that he needed my assistance to tell his lovely little stories."

There was so much sarcasm in the last three words that Angelina had to give a chuckle. She could imagine almost perfectly the scene. Fred nervous, George exasperated. There would be two veelas, looking amused for the first few moments and then bored. Angelina smiled, wishing she had seen it all.

She just wished she could see Fred again, alive and happy.

It was easy to remember the last time she had ever seen Fred alive. Her last image of Fred at all, as she had never seen him dead.

Thank God for that, at least.

_There was a flash of light, and Angelina threw her wand arm up. She waited for the light to go away to see who she would have to fight next. After the light vanished, she saw that she was face to face with her fiancée._

_Angelina's mouth formed a perfect "O" and Fred had to laugh at her reaction. She went to apologize for almost cursing him, but he waved it off, taking a few steps in her direction._

_"__Quite alright, Angie," Fred winked at her. She winked back and felt his lips on hers once again, his hands gripping her upper arms tightly._

_They pulled out of the kiss, looking at each other. Fred's eyes burned into hers, there was so much sparking in his eyes that she could not blink. A distant cracking sound broke them apart as they both started, reminded of where they were. He tore away, leaving her arms stinging from his touch. With a final wink, he ran down the hall to continue the fight and she ran the opposite way._

Those were lovely last words. Angelina was almost glad that there were no hard feelings, nothing left unsaid at the time of his death. The last word he ever said to her was "Angie." No one would ever call her that again. She would only be Angie to Fred.

It was, if nothing else, a comforting thought. Tugging harder at the sweater she still wore, Angelina let the comfort fill her. It started at the edges of her body, and slowly seeped in. She thought that if she could see it, it would be an orange color, like his hair had been. The comfort inched its way into the very center of her, then finally reaching out to the edges of her fingers and toes.

Angelina took several deep breaths and felt cleansed. She felt, "quite alright."

She turned to George, who was watching her through squinted eyes.

"George, I don't think he would want us to be upset," she started. Angelina waited for George to protest, but to her surprise, he didn't.

Instead, he took a deep breath.

"Lina, do you remember the time me and Fred tried to convince Katie Bell that the Quaffle was haunted?"

Angelina laughed, she remembered it well, but listened as George told the story anyway. Next, Angelina told a humorous story of Fred as well. For another hour or so, they continued back and forth with their stories.

The pair of heart broken survivors laughed because they did not know how to cry anymore.

After laughing for a full minute, something Angelina never thought she would do again, she and George made their way into the small kitchen of the flat. Angelina poured herself and George Pumpkin Juice spiked with Firewhiskey. The mixed drink helped them to open up more and soon the pair was laughing to the point of crying tears of mirth.

"And those fireworks! Umbridge, she couldn't get rid of them!" Angelina shrieked, laughing until her sides hurt.

George was rolling around on the ground, hugging his sides as well.

"That was a perfect day! Ah, I remember leaving Hogwarts. That, that was another day to remember," George reminisced, looking at Angelina in a way that made her remember the day perfectly.

_"__I can't believe you! Is this because of Quidditch? Because if so, then that is a really lousy excuse! I've been sticking up for you and your brother for years! Saying that you two were brilliant! But now, I've been proved wrong!"_

_Angelina's braids were whipping around in the air as she paced back and forth in the classroom that she and Fred were currently occupying. Grinding her teeth, she kept herself from literally bursting with rage._

_"__You've always talked about leaving! But you never did! You only have a few months! Just stay for crying out loud! Whose idea was this? Yours or George's? Oh, if it was his, I'm going to throttle him! You better hope I don't do the same to you!" Angelina stomped her foot, not caring that she seemed like a two year old. Her face was hot and sweaty, an immediate sign of her anger._

_When he hadn't responded to her crazed argument after a few seconds' silence, she stopped her frantic pacing and glared at him. How could he sit there on that desk like nothing was wrong? How DARE he look so calm, so unaffected!_

_Her blood was boiling as he ran his hand through his hair, looking at the ceiling. He took a deep breath before turning his intent gaze to her flustered face._

_"__Angelina," he started, "you know that Quidditch is only part of the reason why we are going. It's Umbridge, and our joke shop, and just so many other little things." Fred spoke calmer than she had ever heard him speak. He seemed undaunted by the fact that she was raving like a mad woman and was brandishing her wand as though she wanted to curse him._

_"__Put that wand away, Angie. You don't want to curse me. It won't stop me from going. Besides, do you really want to ruin these good looks at all?"_

_He was right; she didn't want to curse him. Fred had ended with a joke. It was just so like him that she had to lower her wand. How could she stay mad at him? She had been standing on her toes, trying to make herself as tall as possible; her chest had expanded with the frustrated scream that she had been holding in. But with one look at his small smile, she lowered herself to the ground and sighed softly, all anger gone._

_"__Are there any reasons for staying?" Angelina asked him, in a smaller voice that made her feel like a little girl. She felt tiny now that she was done screaming and being angry. _

_"__There are lots of reasons. Ginny, Ron, Lee, Alicia, Katie," he said as he walked across the room to where Angelina was standing. "And you. Always you. You were the reason why George and I even showed up at school this year. I mean, we came back for everyone. But I, I came back mostly for you."_

_Angelina didn't even care that she had been mad at him only minutes ago. She let his hands engulf hers, much larger than her own. She stared at their entwined fingers, hers so dark against his._

_"__Angie?" He pressed, bringing her eyes back up to his. He never let go of her hand, just held tighter. It felt so natural that Angelina felt like she was going to tear up._

_"__You are my best friend. And maybe, after tonight, if we make it through tonight without you hating me, maybe we could explore the option of being a bit more. We never really made it that much further than kisses, did we?"_

_Angelina gapped at him. Fred had never wanted an actual relationship before. Neither had she. They had both been content to be friends, flirting constantly. It's how they had grown up at school together. Their first kiss at Yule Ball seemed so long ago. Sure, they had kissed several times since then, but it had only been for fun or out of adoration. There had never been the need for a relationship, for them to explain their feelings._

_"__I love you, Angie," Fred said, shutting his eyes, kissing her forehead. She felt her skin tingle at the contact. "And I'm not just saying that so you'll snog me."_

_Angelina laughed shakily. The moment of quiet realization had not ended, but shifted back into their usual routine._

_"__Ahem," came a voice at the door. Angelina and Fred looked away from each other to see George standing, looking slightly disgruntled. "You two had nearly seven years to say that and you waited until now?"_

_"__Actually," Fred commented conversationally to his twin, "Angie hasn't said anything."_

_The two looked at her, bemusedly. Fred ran his thumb over her knuckles, the smallest knowing grin on his face. Angelina felt as though she had lost some sort of Quidditch match, but was still getting the trophy. Shaking her braids, she threw her hands up in the air._

_"__I love you, too," she said, just as conversationally as he had been. The look she gave to Fred blew that illusion away. He knew she had never been more serious about anything._

_"__Of course. I am, after all, the best looking Weasley," with a trademark wink and a wave of his hand, he trotted off to his brother, who was smiling sadly at Angelina with his own wave._

_"__Ready, George?"_

_"__Ready, Fred."_

_The two of them walked out of the dark classroom, visibly bracing themselves for the exit they had been planning for weeks, months._

_It wasn't until their outlines faded into the night sky and Angelina was in her dorm, being held by a crying Alicia, that she realized…_

_…__she was still holding Fred's hand._

With a wry smile, Angelina looked down at her hand. She could imagine, without fault, how Fred's hand had looked next to hers. His large, pale hand had engulfed her own smaller, darker one. It had made Angelina feel safe.

She was still holding Fred's hand.

The wry smile turned into a true one as she realized that, even though Fred was gone, he was still with her.

Angelina looked up at George, who was still breathless from laughter. She saw, from her seat on the arm chair, that light was flooding the windows.

Morning had fallen and George and Angelina had survived what she knew to be the hardest night of their lives.

Angelina stood up from the chair to take her empty mug to the kitchen sink. She washed it, put it back in the cupboard, and walked back into the sitting room to see George standing as well.

"You're leaving now, aren't you?" George asked her, in an unconvincingly casual tone. Angelina nodded.

"I'll visit some other time. Next week, if you want," Angelina offered, giving him a small smile.

George returned the smile, "I'd really like that, Lina."

He walked over to her in several long strides to pull her into his arms. Angelina allowed herself to be hugged until she felt her back crack. She would have giggled if her lungs weren't being pressed flat. George hadn't hugged her like that in ages.

They kissed each other's cheek and stepped away.

"Lina," George said seriously, "thank you."

Angelina smiled, and placed a hand on his cheek. In that simple gesture, she transferred all her feelings of gratitude to George. Their smiles remained sincere and sad as Angelina broke the contact in order to Apparate.

George turned away, holding his wand tightly in his hand for the first time in hours. Angelina watched him as he started to cast spells on the furniture and carpet, cleaning them so that they became livable again.

When he knew that he had not heard the popping noise associated with apparation, George turned to see Angelina. With a shrug, he grinned at her.

"Fred had allergies. All this dust would have made him sneeze."

Angelina wanted to laugh, but she settled for a full lipped smile. She turned on the spot, her last view of George cleaning up the mess.

It was now her turn to do the same.

* * *

These chapters are rather unbearably long, aren't they? Sorry about the length. 

Anyway, time to thank my lovely reviewers! I'm glad you both liked this.

dilaimar: It was one of my first thoughts after I finished Deathly Hallows. I wanted to know what George was going to do without Fred.

PeanutButterOreoCookieGirl: It's a terrible loss, isn't it?

Well, the next chapter is nearly completed and will be posted soon. Please review.


	3. Gred and Forge

It was one of those rare days when the store was so busy that George almost forgot it was little more than five years since Fred's death. "Almost" being the operate word. George never really forgot, but over the last few years, he had stopped brooding as much. His shop occupied most of his time, so he was nearly always busy.

George rushed around the store, trying to restock the shelves faster than customers could buy the products. His magenta robes swished about his feet as he tried his best to find more Canary Creams.

_'And Percy said that no one would enjoy the novelty of molting,'_George thought to himself idly. He continued to rummage quickly through the back section of the shop where the non-stocked products were.

"Oi, George! Hurry it up, won't you?" came a harassed voice, Ron's, from the front of the store. George rolled his eyes at his brother's inability to handle the cash register for more than a few minutes.

_"Accio Canary Creams,"_ George hissed into the many shelves. Instantly, a large package of Canary Creams moved its way into his field of vision. Taking the large box, George ventured back to the main part of his and Fred's store.

He restocked the Canary Creams, and then he made his way back to his younger brother. Ron looked rather pale at the sight of so many people in the store, but George knew that he could handle it.

"One person at a time, little bro," George teased him lightly. Ron made a face and continued to check people out. George straightened out some tattered displays and started making mental notes about which products he would need to make more of.

While debating over whether or not the muggle joke supplies were good enough sellers that he should add more, George's thoughts were interrupted by Ron's deep voice.

"Why are there so many of them?" Ron whispered, not wanting to offend any of the customers.

George looked around. There did seem to be a slight bit more today then they had had recently. He noticed a few small boys, probably second years at Hogwarts, examining the Skiving Snackboxes, and several tittering teenage girls near the love potions.

"I suppose Hogwarts is done. So kids are here to come to the store now," George deduced. Ron made a slight nod of his head and continued to work.

George continued to make his rounds around the store, keeping himself busy. The past five years, he tried to occupy as much of his time as possible. He found that with more things on his mind, Fred didn't take over his thoughts as much.

While feeding the Pygmy Puffs, George noticed a new family enter. He had never seen them in the shop before; this was apparently their first time. Excitedly, the two small children set off into the store, giggling in wonder.

The parents were taken aback by the shock of color, but looked impressed all the same. The blonde mother kept a close eye on the children, never letting them out of her sight. The burly father seemed to be looking at various products.

Weaving his way expertly through the aisles, George came face to face with the couple. He grinned broadly as they both took notice of him.

"Oh, dear," the woman turned to her husband, "he must be one of the Weasley owners." She turned a polite smile to George, and her husband extended his hand to him.

"Been meaning to see the shop for ages, but the kids were never old enough, it seemed." The man had a cheerful voice, and George immediately liked him, shaking his hand.

"I have many nieces and nephews myself. It's hard to get them to calm down sometimes," George said knowingly. Of course, he failed to mention that he hadn't calmed down until he was twenty, but why scare this nice couple?

"Ah, family man! Now, which Weasley are you? Fred?" The man asked, not realizing the gravity of his question.

Behind him, George heard Ron make a wheezing sound between a gasp and yelp. The room seemed to spin slightly, and George felt an unpleasant cold chill settle in his stomach.

It wasn't the first time that George was mistakenly called Fred. No, the first time it happened, George had lost it right at the spot. But no, he couldn't do that again. He couldn't handle it if Ron told their mother that George was still hurting. His mother would try to comfort him, and George would feel guilty for making his mother cry.

No, he would just have to avoid that.

After a few moments of time suspended in the air and tension thickening, George waved an airy hand.

"I am whoever you want me to be. After all, the customer is always right!" George told the couple still looking at him happily.

George didn't need to turn around to know that Ron was boring a hole into his head.

_'Like I really need _another_ hole,'_George thought. In his head, he knew that the tone was bitter. To make up for it, he tried twice as hard to stay cheerful. He hated being bitter.

Fred had never been bitter. Not really, at least.

After a few minutes of examining nearly everything in the store, the married couple left the store, with Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes products in their arms. George watched the excited children pull on their father's sleeves as they tried to peer into the bags to play with their new toys.

For minutes after the small family left the view from the windows of the shop, George continued to stare at the spot where he had last seen them. He found it hard to understand, sometimes, that other people didn't know Fred was gone. It was just difficult to know that some people were blessed with ignorance, to not know that someone as wonderful as Fred was dead.

It wasn't until he felt a tentative hand on his shoulder that George finally blinked. George trailed his eyes up his brother's arm and into Ron's face.

"Erm, are you alright, mate?" Ron asked, awkward as always. George took note of his grimaced face, his eyes full of concern.

Not wanting to worry his brother too much, George nodded. "Yeah, I'm…" His voice trailed off as he realized that Ron didn't believe him.

George sighed and cast his eyes downward. For a moment he needed to compose himself, needed to not scare Ron. After a moment, George arranged his facial features into what he hoped was a passive expression.

"Would'ya mind taking care of the shop for the rest of the day?" George asked Ron, care to keep his voice level. Ron, without even looking at the clock to see how long he would be there, nodded his head.

"Sure thing," he told George, not taking his eyes off of George's face. George wished he would, he felt slightly naked under Ron's gaze. He didn't know how much longer he would be able to stay stoic.

"I'll be upstairs then, shall I?" George walked towards to door to his apartment upstairs. Before he opened the door, he heard Ron behind him.

"Should I get Alicia?" Ron muttered, his ears turning bright pink. George just shrugged half heartedly. He loved his fiancée, he really did. But he didn't want to worry her in the same way that he didn't want to worry Ron.

"How about Angelina?" Ron continued, his ears getting redder with each second. George pondered this option and then nodded his head. He continued his way upstairs, glad to shut the door behind him.

Angelina would know what to do. She always knew. George would tell her what happened that day, what made him so upset and she would just hold him in her arms. With little soothing noises, she would calm him down enough to be able to carry on again. Then, of course, there were days when he would have to comfort her. George would rub her back, whisper her name in her ears until her crying ceased. Sometimes this process took fifteen minutes, sometimes it took two hours. Some days were just harder than others.

It was their tragic tradition.

Nearly twice a week, without fail, the two friends relied on each other. They sought out comfort and found it within one another. The two of them could understand the pangs of losing Fred with each other in a way that Alicia couldn't with George and in a way that Oliver Wood couldn't with Angelina.

George strode over to the couch, where he slumped onto, his hand over his eyes. It was now all he could do until Angelina got there. Under his freckled hand, George could feel the first few tears leaking out of his eyes.

He just missed his twin so much. So very much.

_Six-year old twins sat forlornly in the garden in the back of their house. Their solemn attitudes were alarming to all that knew them. Indeed, if the two hadn't been so wrapped up in their musings, they would have noticed their mummy watching them from a window worryingly. Why weren't her twins laughing? _

_"Freddie?" Georgie started out slowly, looking at his double. "Do you think Bill was right?" _

_Freddie twisted his little face up, obviously in intense concentration. He rubbed his hands together roughly, still thinking. _

_"I dunno," he finally answered. "Does it matter?" _

_Just moments ago, the twins had been happily drinking apple juice in the kitchen. They watched merrily as their mummy tried to keep their baby sister from crying because little brother Ronnie had taken her cookie. Giggling at Ginny's tomato face, the twins sipped from their cups. _

_Their eldest brother Bill had then entered the room and made the mistake of calling the twins by their wrong names, mixing them up like everyone else did. When the twins quickly corrected him, he just shrugged it off. He made an offhand comment about how the twins' names might have been switched when they were born. The twins hadn't always been able to correct people. _

_It was with fear in their eyes that the young twins put down their apple juice and wandered off outside to think about their identities. _

_Georgie wondered if it did matter if he was really Freddie. Fat tears started to well in his eyes and splash his front. Freddie's eyes widened as he saw his twin upset. _

_"Georgie, don't cry!" he said, wrapping his arms around Georgie, holding him tight. Georgie gave a great sniff and leaned his head against his brother's. _

_"Freddie, if you were really Georgie, I didn't mean to steal your name," Georgie exclaimed, obviously feeling guilty. He pulled away from his brother's hold, looking very downtrodden. _

_Freddie shook his head so hard, his hair swished around. Georgie would have laughed if he wasn't so sad. _

_"It's awright. Tell ya what, we'll share our names," Freddie said, smiling. Georgie blinked a couple times. _

_"Really? You'd share with me?" he said, his tone incredulous. Freddie grinned broadly, and nodded. _

_The twins shared a tight hug and they missed their mummy smiling lovingly at her two sweet sons. _

_"From now on, we'll be Gred and Forge," Freddie yelped. _

_"It don't matter which one we are," Georgie added, getting caught up in the excitement. The twins giggled and laughed, rolling around on the grass, holding their toes. They took turns pulling each other's ginger hair and tickling their sides. Under the bright sunlight of a summer day, it didn't matter which twin was Freddie and which twin was Georgie. _

_With their identical laughs, Freddie_ was _Georgie and Georgie _was _Freddie. They shared freckles, giggles, and faces, and now they shared names, too. They caught their breath after laughing so hard and finally extended their hands out. _

_They pulled each other up at the same time, bright blue eyes looking into bright blue eyes. They didn't let go of each other's hands, just grinned their little-boy grins. Freddie tugged onto Georgie's hand still clasped in his own, and pulled him deeper into the overgrown garden. _

_"Let's start with the gnomies. We'll tell e'eryone we're Gred and Forge." _

_"Always?" Georgie asked, running hand in hand with his twin. Freddie smiled largely, gripping Georgie's hand even tighter._

_"Yep."_

* * *

Thanks again, those of you who have read and reviewed. :)

dilaimar: I aim to make people cry. lol

Chemisa Potter: You think this seems real? That's such a great compliment. Thank you.

Poetrymaiden: I cried while writing this, too. Fred and George were my favorite Weasleys and I liked Angelina a lot as well.

KrystalB2003: The memories were my favorite parts to write. :) And I'm glad you picked up on the name thing. "Angie" and "Lina" do sound like they are finishing each other's sentences. That's what I was thinking when I wrote it.

Well, that's all folks. This was one of the best things I have ever written, if I do say so myself. I wrote this for over a week, and had been planning it out for even longer. I won't be continuing this particular fan fic, but there is plenty more coming. Including an Angelina and Lee Jordan fic, and also a sequel of sorts to this one.

I hope you have enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please review, for the love of Fred. :)_  
_


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